The warmer air of spring was beginning to descend on Tinuvel and Sigrún was glad of it. While she might have grown up in the cold and snow and moved straight back into it when she arrived on the islands; her temporary move to Atlantis had thinned her winter coat out dramatically. That coupled with the shift from plentiful, easy access vegetation to having to dig for her meals, left the mare feeling almost grumpy – or maybe that was the hormones. Now that spring was almost upon them, the roan was looking fit to burst. The normal pregnancy hormones and her worry over whether or not the painted, lagoon stallion was the father, had her stomping around the snow in an antisocial huff most her days.

Today was different, however, and she pressed closer to the rest of the herd (though still did not engage them). She shifted uncomfortably on her feet, trying to find a better way to distribute the weight of the foal, luckily the child obliged and shifted within her womb. A hoof pawed idly at the loose snow before she dipped her head down to nose the rest away and take a few bites of the stems hiding below. Surprisingly, she found she was not hungry at all when she swallowed a mouthful – that meant she would probably give birth within the week. The sooner the better, she thought, but it would certainly not be today.

The mare huffed an irritated snort and lifted her head, gaze looking for someone to take her mind off how fed up she felt. Ochre eyes landed on the spotted stallion that was Dögun’s second first. She did not know him, just as she barely knew anyone in the Inlet anymore, but making herself known to him would be smart. Perhaps if she was better acquainted with the rest of the herd, she would be less likely to be stolen away in the night again.

With a flick of her tail, and a nicker of greeting, the grulla trudges toward the golden male.